One Sherlock to Many
by Rarely Written
Summary: John is going out of his way to be annoying and oh boy is Sherlock annoyed!


Sherlock's POV

John stumbled inside; giggling as he almost fell over. It was two in the morning, having just come back from a night out with his army friends. He was drunk.

"Hey Sherlock, so your still awake." John's attempt at appearing sober, while admirably good, was pointless.

"You're drunk," I stated, "And it's clear from the late hour that you met a girl, since you weren't planning on staying out that late. But you didn't bring her home, maybe because she refused you, more likely you refused her. She slipped you her number, which you have already put in your phone, despite the fact you won't call her…"

I was ready to go into more detail about his night when he cut me off.

"That's so sweet of you!" I looked at him strangely. It was _sweet_ to state my deductions about his night? John explained himself, "You are awake. There's a chance that you couldn't sleep, more likely that you didn't try. So you were staying awake on purpose. Therefore, you were waiting up for me. That's nice of you Sherlock, but unnecessary. Now I'm heading off to bed. Goodnight."

With that he stumbled up the stairs, ignoring my look of disbelief. Once he had disappeared I turned my look to the kitchen, where my experiment was simmering. What was John talking about?

XxX

My eyes scanned the page quickly, soaking up the knowledge written there. It was a cold case, so it wasn't as fun as a fresh one, but it was something to do to stop my brain from rotting.

_The body placement suggested that the killer regretted what he'd done, but didn't want to regret it. This means a soft hearted person who thought killing wouldn't_

TOOT!

My head snapped up to find John holding a recorder, his lips blowing air into it to make sound, for it couldn't be called music.

TOOT!

"John," I say quietly.

TOOT!

"John."

TOOT! TOOT! TOOOOOOOOOOOOT!

"JOHN!"

The sound ceased. He smiled, inviting me to speak my mind.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged, smiling happily.

"I'm trying to work."

"Oh right. Of course," John nodded, lowering the instrument, "Need my assistance?"

"No, this one is utterly obvious. How the police didn't solve it the first time I'll never know. I just need time."

The last thing I saw was John's nodding head before the words were rushing at me again.

_The killer is a soft hearted person who thought killing wouldn't be nearly as hard as it_

TOOT!

"JOHN!"

TOOT! TOOT! TOOT! TOOOOOOOOOOOOT! TOOT! TOOOOOT!

I slammed the file shut, glaring at John, who was avoiding my gaze. Completely unaware of the death threats I was sending his way. Taking a deep breath I tried to tune it out. Somehow it seemed to get louder.

TOOOOOOOOOOOT! TOOOOOOOOT! TOOT! TOOOT! TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!

I jumped to my feet and fled the flat before I really did commit murder. The music from hell echoed down the hall after me.

TOOOOT! TOOOOOOOOOOOOOT! TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOT!

XxX

I looked at John then at the clock. It had been five hours ago that he had stopped mid-sentence, seemed to just freeze. He has not moved or spoken since then. Frankly, it was starting to worry me.

Turning back to the microscope, I tried to put my broken flatmate out of my mind. If he hasn't moved within the next hour, I was calling Lestrade. The flat was eerily silent. I could hear my own breath coming and going. The clock's continuing tick sounding like a gunshot every second, blasting into the air.

I glanced at the clock again, five minutes gone. John still hasn't moved. He was barely breathing. That couldn't be healthy.

Another ten gone. What was he thinking about? What could take so much attention that even breathing would be a distraction?

Half an hour to go. Maybe he was threatened and he's trying to work out what to do.

Fifteen minutes. Maybe Moriarty survived somehow. Don't be ridiculous, Moriarty is dead. Even he can't survive a bullet to the head. But if some of his network survived.

"GUN!"

I jumped off my seat, hitting the floor with a bone-shaking _smack!_

"Where?" I called, my eyes scanning the area.

"In my car."

I paused. Slowly I picked myself off the floor and made my way to where John was sitting. He grinned at me, obviously expecting me to understand a smile back.

"What?" My voice was quiet, still adjusting to the allowance of volume again.

"I knew I'd forgotten something! It was my gun. I left it in the car!"

I turned away from him, a string of colourful curses flying out my mouth.

XxX

I raced up the stairs of Scotland Yard. I was nearly out of breath. The wallet was unhelpfully empty so I had to run across town to respond to John message.

I'm at Scotland Yard. In danger. Help.

JW

Bursting into Lestrade's office, I found both John and him sitting at the desk, laughing. What?!

"Sherlock! Thank god you're here! Can you get the sugar?" John asked.

That's when I exploded. "YOU CALLED ME HERE TO GET YOU SUGAR? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? ALL WEEK YOU'VE BEEN GOING OUT OF YOU'RE WAY TO BE AS ANNOYING AS POSSIBLE! SNAP OUT OF IT!"

The silence that followed was deadly. I was seriously thinking of killing him, best friend or not.

"Well I'll be damned," Lestrade stated before slapping a twenty into John's hand.

"What?"

"I told you," John stated smugly, "Not even Sherlock has the patience to put up with Sherlock."


End file.
